A Chanced Meeting
by The Irish Lass
Summary: While searching for the wizarding world, Loki finds Snape in a bar. A discussion about abused villians follows. Rated for a curse word.


A Chanced Meeting

Loki, god of lies and rightful king of Asguard, was sight-seeing.

Now, he wasn't in some mountain region, or in India, or anything that common place. Loki hated clichés. No, instead he was looking for a more… clandestine scene. Who knew what one could find with the right map and a desire to experience the world? Not that Loki cared about starving orphans, or endangered leopards, or safari hunts. He was after a different sort of thrill.

And, he had found it. The small, filthy looking pub with the sign emblazoned with peeling paint, that declared: The Leaky Cauldron.

Or, according to several of his sources, the gateway into the wizarding community. And the possible site of a new army to help him take over the world. Loki's lip curled into a sneer as he gazed at the dingy outside, before he pulled his bottle green hat over his eyes and entered.

The air was smoke filled, and smelled of stale spirits. Only a few of the tables were filled, and the bar stools were almost empty, save for one man with long, greasy black hair and sallow skin.

Loki stared at him for a moment, before making his way to the bar stool beside the man. He sat down, and waved to the bartender, an old man, missing half his teeth and who was washing out some glasses with a rather ragged looking dishcloth.

"What can I get for you, sir?" The man asked, slowly making his way over to the god. Loki smiled internally. He had done his research.

"A firewhiskey." He replied, leaning his arms against the bar, his hat still obscuring his eyes. The man beside him took a long swallow from his own tankard.

"Coming right up." The bartender nodded agreeably, and took a small glass, about the size of a tea cup, from under the counter. Loki noted this approvingly. In America, they gave you small shots, meant for a quick swallow, and a burning sensation. He couldn't get drunk, and he liked the taste of the drink. It was stimulating.

The bartender filled the glass from a tap, and slid it over to his customer. Loki nodded his thanks. It never hurt to be polite when one wanted to recruit an army

"Refill, Mr. Snape?" The bartender asked the man at Loki's elbow.

"No, thank you." The reply was curt, to the point, and brooked no argument. The man took another swig, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing.

Loki looked over, interested. Severus Snape? He was famous for being a back stabber, liar, and a sensational actor. Loki had been hoping to meet him.

The man, Severus Snape, caught him looking. "What?" He asked irritably.

"Loki Laufeyson." Loki extended his hand, which Snape looked contemptuously down at, until the god withdrew it. A smile spread over Loki's face. Oh, yes. He quite liked his man.

"Snape." The other replied, turning back to his drink.

"oh, I've heard of you." Loki assured him.

"I'll bloody well bet you have." Snape sneered. "Every muggle with a small contraption has." He sipped his drink.

Loki's mind flitted from ideas of war and glory to the topic at hand. "Small contraption." He repeated dubiously.

"Computer, telephone, that sort of rubbish." Snape nodded mournfully. "Hold up, just a minute." His eyes narrowed, and his head swiveled towards Loki, greasy strands of hair flying into his face. "Loki? The god who tried to take over New York last year?"

"That does seem familiar." Loki nodded.

"Then you know the tortures of the muggles!" Snape gasped.

"Tortures?" Loki cocked his head, removing his hat for the first time that day.

Snape nodded, ignoring the filling pub. "The fanfiction, the fanart, the absolutely horrendous images of villains."

Loki nodded, joy at having found a fellow victim clear on his face. "I do indeed know."

"I'm not cute." Snape muttered resentfully to himself. "I do not need the pity of strangers, and I never liked any Potter. My life has been living hell ever since that stupid woman wrote the series."

Loki nodded again. "I agree wholeheartedly. I killed hundreds, was going to kill millions, and I turn out to be _misunderstood_." His tone carried what he thought of that across clearly. "I am not some toddler begging for attention. I am a god, and it would befit those swine to remember that."

Snape agreed. "Friends with Potter. Adopting Potter. Potter as my bastard child. Cute. Loveable. Misunderstood."

"Indeed. They don't do this to the heros, no. They are strong, and worthy of such images as befit powerful men." Mission forgotten, Loki complained to a kindred sufferer, who was all too eager to add his own grievances to the conversation.

~The End!~

Hi! So, yeah…

I've never done a Loki or a Snape fic before. Guess there is a first time for everything. This is also the shortest one-shot I have written in over a year.

So, review, please! It makes me happy, and might help me get over this confounded writer's block.

As a parting note, no offense was intended to anyone. This was simply my opinion, and my sister thought it was funny, and deserved to be written out.

'Til next time!

-The Irish Lass


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